


Exterminate the Dream

by some_rats



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, HYDRA being assholes, M/M, Original Characters (children) - Freeform, child endangerment, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_rats/pseuds/some_rats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Bucky's first conscious realizations had been that something was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exterminate the Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for child endangerment (HYDRA's not known for their babysitting skills). Unbeta'd.

One of Bucky's first conscious realizations had been that something was missing.

He wasn't quite sure what, exactly, was missing, only that it was not in his life and that it was imperative that he remember and find it. Even as he scrounges through dumpsters in secondhand clothes, or shivers on sidewalks on cold, rainy nights, his mind wanders to that gap. There are many gaps in his mind, at this point, but this particular gap nags incessantly. When they wake him up (unfreeze him, free him from the frigid hell that is both a blessing and a curse), he always, always-

But that is where it stops. He is supposed to do something, yet (like many things as of late) he cannot remember. It has been months since he pulled the targ--the Captain from the river, filthy water weighing down his clothes and making his hair stick to his bloodied face as he dragged this man to shore, not entirely sure why he was doing so. 

On one of these nights, where the chill in the air has started to nip at the joint of his arm and make his left shoulder ache, he is startled from his fitful slumber to find his screams chasing the sounds of high pitched laughter, bright and gleeful in a dark place filled with blood and unanswered questions. Bucky forces his breathing to calm and his mind to focus, dragging what he thinks is a memory to the surface and holding it there. He's unsure of what it is at first, but then-

Oh.

How could he be so stupid?

He struggles to remember the location of the facility, pressing his palms against his eyes as though it will do more than make him see stars. He thinks it was- somewhere wooded. Guarded. Outdated. Abandoned now, most likely. If they're still there, though, then maybe he can-

Bucky knows he will not be falling back asleep anytime soon, and decides to leave instead. 

******

He needs more information first. While he has a vague recollection of where the facility is, that will not be enough to go on. Bucky needs floor plans and schematics and head counts, none of which are surfacing in his ever-tangled mind. At this hour, his only choice is far from optimal, but he is willing to take this risk.

Bucky is easily able to surpass the security in the tower where the Captain now lives, big and tall and, frankly, somewhat hideous in Bucky's opinion. (When he thinks this, he takes a moment to appreciate that he's allowed an opinion.) The hacking is not something he remembers learning, so he assumes that the skills were all implanted and ignores the way that thought makes bile rise in his throat. Sometimes, if he lets his mind wander too far, he'll begin to worry that maybe this is all an elaborate punishment, that HYDRA had temporarily released him to see how life would be without them. Perhaps he didn't do something right, something important, and now they are letting him sit alone with his thoughts and headaches and growling stomach until they decide that he has learned his lesson. 

Bucky tries not to let his mind wander so much any more.

One he is inside, he must locate a computer. He has many options, especially in this place. Nearly every surface can, at the very least, have a screen projected upon it. Others appear to be capable of more sophisticated actions, and Bucky manages to make a glowing keyboard appear. He is surprised to find that it responds to his metal as well as his human hand, and searches the information released by the Captain's accomplice for any documents involving subjects Alpha 24 A and B. The most recent he can find is dated some forty years previous, but that is enough to go on. His memories of the base, or what remain of them, match up with the area that surrounds the location listed in the files. All he will need is a car and then-

The click of a gun from behind him makes Bucky tense. He had not noticed. He is distracted and cannot afford to be, especially not now.

"I'll admit, it is a nice night for a stroll. Though from what I've heard-and how you smell- that's all you've been doing for the past five months." Bucky doesn't have to turn to know that it is the defector, the Widow, small and unsuspecting and lethal. "Why are you here Barnes? Why now?" He forces his shoulders to relax and closes the files he's opened, the coordinates for the base already memorized.

"I-" His voice is stiff from disuse, having spoken to no one for weeks now. "I remembered that HYDRA has-something. Of mine. I need it back as soon as possible. I couldn't remember where-" He gestures vaguely to where the glowing blue screen had been moments ago. There is another click. The safety is on now.

 

"Alright. Go on your top-secret mission." If she notices how that word makes him flinch and tense, the Widow says nothings. "Maybe swing by and say hi to Steve eventually, okay? Never seen a man mope this much." Bucky nods stiffly and listens to her pad quietly away and towards an elevator. As the doors slide shut, he hears her thank something invisible for enacting a protocol, and knows that he has just been given explicit permission to gather his intel; the Widow lets no one hear what she doesn't want them to. 

******

He remembers it, faintly, blurrily, just as he remembers nearly everything else (Hands on his hips, his sides, such small hands, delicate and lady-like, even, except, except-).

Even if it is fuzzy around the edges and there are the few moments where there is nothing but static, he can still see three cryopods before him in his mind. One is empty and the other two are being opened with a near-silent hiss. Bucky is impatient in his memory, though he cannot show it before his superiors. When the pods are opened, Bucky shifts a bit while eyes blink as if waking from sleep and scratchy blankets are wrapped around shoulders. Two tiny figures are pushed roughly towards Bucky-too roughly, and his shoulders tense as one of the children lets out a small noise of pain. They walk with squinted eyes and legs stiff from disuse until they reach Bucky, when they look up at him and blink before surging forward with elated squeals, the hoarse quality to their voices from all that time in deep freeze doing nothing to tamp their excitement.

"Papa!"

There had been dark, messy hair and bright, innocent eyes and happy smiles, all while men in lab coats watched with detached scientific interest. Bucky had petted their hair and smiled back while they jabbered on excitedly about training and conditioning, and had broken a neck when one of the men in white coats attempted to drag the boys away too soon.

Bucky remembers naming them. He remembers being handed two tiny things wrapped in blankets, small enough that he could hold them near his chest with one arm easily. They told him to pick two names, something strong and worthy of serving the Motherland. His brow had furrowed as he thought, trying to think of any names, really. He himself did not have one, and all of his handlers simply referred to each other as ‘comrade’. He had been fairly certain that that wasn’t a name, and forced himself to think harder. Nothing, nothing, and then—

A woman with long, dark hair tied back behind her, placing a small bundle into what must have been the Soldier’s arms, telling him “Careful, there you go, use both arms. His name’s Ronan, isn’t he just darling?” She is beautiful, this woman, with her wide smile and crinkles in the corners of her eyes. Something about her makes the Soldier feel safe and comforted, which is the first sign that something is wrong because the Soldier does not feel. Some part of him, buried deep within the blood and gore and the falling (always falling), had felt unsettled at this realization and cuddled the two babies closer to his chest. “This one,” the Soldier had nodded to the child on the left. It squirmed a bit, almost as if it knew it was being spoken about. “He is Ronan. And the other is-” He focused again, dipping into the corner of his mind that his handlers work so hard to fence off. He saw a small boy, blond hair like a halo atop his bloody face and he is being helped up off the ground, "My name’s James Buchanan, but you can call me-"

The Soldier had paused.

"The other is James."

 

The guard who had presented him with the children had made a displeased noise before calling for one of the doctors, explaining something hurriedly and in a hushed tone. The doctor’s brow had furrowed as he listened to the guard and shot nervous glances at the Soldier. 

"Come, it is time for your procedure, Soldier." The doctor, an ancient, tall man had said with a fake smile once the guard had finished. The Soldier hesitated; also unusual.

"What about-" He’d glanced down at the tiny, pudgy things he cradled, their blue eyes staring up at him as they gurgled nonsense. 

"They will be seen to, do not worry. Now, let us go."

***

Bucky drives through the night towards what turns out to be Vermont. He is breaking traffic laws in a car that he had hot wired and stolen, towards children that he hopes are still alive. He arrives at the facility shortly after dawn, and finds it just as empty as he had hoped it would be. The doors are rusted and the vegetation overgrown; there is no sign of human visitation in recent years. He pries the door off of its hinges with ease and finds the inside of the base a wreck. Clearly something happened that forced everyone out. To his left there are gaping holes in the roof and piles of rubble at his feet and, on his right, a large hole in the floor leading to one of the subbasements. He thinks that is his best bet. Bucky leaps down and lands easily and with grace, straightening himself before stalking down a hallway. It is eerily silent in the compound, the only sound being the quiet squeelch of Bucky's dew-damp shoes on the floor. As he walks farther and farther down the corridor, an odd feeling settles in his stomach. He stops abruptly at the very end of the hall, recognition washing over him and simultaneously relieving and terrifying him.

He is before a door now, heavy steel covered with flaking green paint. Distantly, there is the smell of rubber and the sound of electricity and a shiver shooting up Bucky's spine. He peers through the small window on the door, staring at the two remaining cryopods, the third having been dragged long ago to the bank vault where Bucky fought to remember Steve. He finds that his breath is caught in his throat and halts just before opening the door.

It is still odd to him, feeling things. Every time he experiences emotion, he must fight against himself. His programming tells him to box it up and shove it away, to tell his handlers so that this unease and fear and curiosity will go away. Usually, he tells his programming to shut the fuck up. He’ll take waking up from dreams he can remember nothing of besides blood and screams over feeling nothing, even if it means not being able to catch his breath for a few minutes. (He remembers small shoulders shaking and a thin chest heaving, struggling and gasping for what he needed to survive, and "Easy there, Stevie, I got ya").

Now, though, there are two pods and two small lives that Bucky considers himself responsible for. He forces out the breath he had been unconsciously holding in and forcibly opens the door, stepping through the threshold. Bucky fumbles on either side of the door, searching momentarily for a light switch before flicking it and discovering that nothing happens. He doesn't mind; his vision is above average in darkness anyway. 

He can hear the quiet hum of the pods, low-pitched and incessant. The sound would annoy him endlessly if it didn’t mean that they could still be alive in there, just trapped, waiting to be released. It only takes the press of a few buttons before the pods open themselves, releasing puffs of freezing air that make goosebumps rise on Bucky’s skin. There is a worry in the back of Bucky’s mind, one that had surfaced the first moment he had thought of the twins, dug its claws in, and remained firmly in his head till this very moment. He hasn’t seen all of their files and can’t be certain that they haven’t been given some version of the serum or had their memories wiped. He’s terrified that they will step from those pods and meet Bucky’s gaze with blank expressions, no glimmer of recognition in sight. 

There is movement from within, gentle noises of confusion before one small figure stands at Bucky's feet. The child glances around, taking in the darkened room and Bucky's looming figure before quietly asking, "Papa?"

He is speaking Russian, and Bucky easily slips into the language to accommodate him. 

"It is time to go now, Rowan," Bucky tells him as he scoops the boy up and places him on his hip. He hugs him tight, some of his worry dissipating. "There is a car outside. You will come with me." Even as he says this, Bucky's eyes do not leave the second pod. There is no more noise, no more movement, nothing except for the gentle breathing of the toddler cuddled against Bucky's chest. 

"Your brother, is he-can you remember if they did anything to him? Before..." Bucky starts, glancing down to find Rowan resting his head on his shoulder, eyes half closed.

"They gave him something. With needles." Rowan says, voice quiet and very serious. "There was screaming, Papa, I didn't like it." Bucky swallows around the lump in his throat and uses his free hand to reach into the open pod, feeling gently for anything. His terror turns to confusion when he finds nothing. 

Anything could have happened. He could be dead, he could be in another facility, he could have already been trained and out in the world being used as HYDRA's puppet at this very moment. Bucky doesn't like any of those options.

"Come along, little one. Time to find your brother."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing i've written in a while so be gentle with me. also what no the title's totally not from an mcr song.


End file.
